Blackout
by Objessions
Summary: A little fic for Saint Patrick's Day. I had a long shift at work and a lot of down time. Gib and I were chatting about what the guys might be up to ... And Blackout is the result. When I figure out how to get them out of this jam (hopefully tomorrow) I'll post the next chapter. Standard warnings and disclaimers apply. Erin go bragh! J
1. Chapter 1

For a change everything had gone smoothly. Scouting the security arrangements in Dublin ahead of an … important … visitor from the U.S. had revealed no inherent flaws in the system. Despite credible threats that the opponents of that particular visitor's stance on Ireland and Brexit, wanted to upset that particular applecart (violently), nothing had turned up.

The State Visit had concluded early, with the official jet departing at about tea time, according to the local more casual measure of what part of the day you were in. Mac found that particular quirk oddly charming. The locals, the ones they had dealt with anyway, seemed to keep time by the sun, which meal was on its way, and more than half of them, the chime of the bells from the nearest cathedral.

Their exfil wasn't scheduled until ten the following morning, when the official visit was supposed to conclude. So, for a change, instead of running toward the nearest friendly means of conveyance away from the bad guys, Mac and Jack were enjoying the change to slow down for a minute.

They'd headed to their respective rooms to grab a shower with plans to meet up and discuss dinner possibilities. After standing under the hot spray for a few minutes, Mac was contemplating begging off, ordering room service, and watching the All-Ireland Club Football Championship.

The more he thought about it, the better an idea it seemed. Streets were getting a little rowdy if the noise he'd heard through his cracked window before he'd come in to get cleaned up was any indication. And Mac was honestly just ready for a night in; something nice and quiet. There wasn't a chance in Hell Jack was interested in hanging out and watching soccer, and if how hard he'd been flirting with the pretty redhead at the desk was any indication, Jack had very specific ideas about his evening already.

He'd just finished dressing and was about to head into his small single room to call Jack and say, "Sorry not sorry because I'm beat and I feel like being boring," when he heard that it was too late.

"Mac! Yo, Mac! You ready or what?"

Rolling his eyes, with a little smirk, he opened the bathroom door. That was Jack's 'I want to go party and maybe I've been pregaming a little' voice. Mac just crossed to his bed and sat down on the end by his shoes, looking at the TV a little longingly and wondering if he could get himself off the hook tonight. It was too nice to finish a mission, have it go exactly as planned, and not be all dinged up and miserable afterward to want to go courting a hangover just so Jack Dalton could get laid.

A litany of excuses ran through Mac's head, and not a single one struck him as something Jack would buy. He decided to go the direct route and see where it got him. "Jack … I was thinking …"

"Oh no you don't, young Angus. The lovely lady who upgraded our rooms wants to have a drink at the pub up the block when she get off at seven."

Mac gave him the look. The single cocked eyebrow was more than enough to tell Jack he was going to have to keep going to get Mac to put on his boots. "So? Go have a drink with … Ali?"

"Ailbe, actually. Her sister is a waitress at that pub," Jack explained.

"That's nice. Are they twins? Is that what this is about? Because I definitely don't want to to sit in a booth across from you and watch you make out with two of the same person. Ever again."

Jack grinned. "Very funny. It's her younger sister. Who she thinks would just love the hell out of … how did she put it … shorter, shyer Captain America."

Mac smiled and shook his head. He could feel his face color just a little. Always nice to have somebody think you were cute, but there was nothing worse than knowing you were meeting someone who'd already probably had an unflattering candid pic texted to them and all manner of speculation exchanged before you'd ever breathed the same air.

"I honestly don't feel like going out Jack. There's a match on I was hoping to catch tonight even if we were at the embassy, and since we're aren't …"

"Madagascar, Mac. C'mon. Don't let's make that kind of luck a once in a lifetime thing, huh?"

Mac felt a grin of his own start to spread. That was a memorable couple of days, to say the least. He was almost ready to capitulate when Jack added, "Besides, dude, it's Saint Patrick's Day! We're in Dublin! We gotta go tear it up a little!"

"Ugh, Jack, no. I haven't gone out to a bar on March 17th since Smitty made me my freshman year and it was loud, obnoxious, and we nearly got busted for having fake IDs. I vowed I would never do it again. Besides, Americans in Ireland, going out and getting hammered on a national holiday. Feels like cultural appropriation to me."

Jack gave a dismissive wave. "C'mon, Mac, be a little less Millenial for a minute. Besides, Dalton is an Irish name and …"

"Dalton is actually a Norman name that took root in England sometime after the 7th century where it evolved from the Old English Dole, meaning valley or dale. Dalton didn't make its way into Ireland until the …"

"My Pop's family is from Ireland. That's good enough for me," Jack said with his characteristic feigned irritation at one of Mac's unnecessary explanations. "And Angus MacGyver that's sounds plenty Irish, so …"

"Both are Scottish names Jack. Angus means lamb …"

Jack snicker-snorted at that and Mac just sent a glare his way.

"And MacGyver comes from old Norse patronymics from the name Iver and was eventually adopted as a clan name in the Argyle region of Scotland near 1300 CE and is now primarily associated with the clan society based in Fife."

This time Jack was the one who raised an eyebrow. "Are you done, Professor?"

Mac just shrugged. "Anthroponomastics is really pretty interesting …"

"Just put your damned boots on, Mac. And let's go drink too much with a couple of pretty girls, and have a holiday just like guys who have regular not crazy assed jobs do, okay?"

At Jack's pleading look, Mac just started pulling on his footwear.

" _Erin go bragh_ , I guess."

0-0-0

The night started in the pub up the street, which had a much better than average kitchen. Jack was ecstatic to be getting some real Irish food instead of the corned beef and cabbage being served at home. He ordered two helpings of Irish bacon (which Jack said was just fancy ham) and some sort of potato dish that Mac didn't hear the name of over the din of the patrons and the live band.

He stuck to chicken and leek pie, and that's where he was going to leave it, but their very attractive dinner companions, Ailbe and Saiorse (who made sure to tell him her name in what felt like an almost affected accent - saying she knew American boys thought it was cute or exotic or something) started ordering stouts left and right. Mac was pretty close to ready to call it a night, because he was about half past too buzzed for his personal taste, although Jack seemed to be having a great time. His impromptu date got up to use the ladies room.

Then Ailbe said, "Hey Sersh, get Seamus to fix these boys a proper American Saint Paddy's drink, to celebrate their visit, wontcha?"

Saoirse raised her eyebrows. "Already, then, Al, my girl?"

Her sister nodded, with a small smile and lidded eyes.

When Saiorse came back with a tray of dark beer, she set one down in front of Jack, then Mac. When he didn't immediately pick his up, she slid it toward him.

"I think I'm all set, Sersh."

"C'mon, don't be like that, then," she said in a distinctly cajoling voice. She picked up her own beer and took a long drink. "It's a party, lovey."

Jack was half way through his own beer already. "He knows how to party. He plans killer ones."

Mac smiled, just a little. His dinner companion, with unusually clear green eyes and black silky hair, took another sip of her beer and gave him and encouraging nudge with her elbow.

He shook his head and picked up his beer, took a sip and nearly spit it out. "What the hell is this?" he asked, wrinkling his face in a way that said he wasn't sure he hated it, but it sure as hell didn't taste right.

"That's a car bomb, love. Stout and whiskey. Americans came up with that one when The Troubles were at their worst. You know what The Troubles are, then?"

Mac took another tentative sip, followed by a longer drink. "I do. Things have been better for a while though, right?"

"Depends on who you ask," Ailbe answered, putting her arm around Jack and pulling him toward her. He didn't take a lot of convincing to lean his head against what couldn't quite properly be termed her shoulder.

"Whoo," Mac said widening his eyes a little. "How much whiskey did your friend put in this? I feel kind of …" He trailed off, closing his eyes, trying to find the word for the sensation he was feeling, and hoping it would be written on the backs of his eyelids.

When he opened them, he groaned and closed them again, bringing a hand up to cover them and keep out the light. He was lying flat, ostensibly on a bed because it felt reasonably soft. Well, sort of. There was nowhere he didn't hurt at the moment, and that was especially true for his head.

Jesus, he thought to himself. If you were going to let a girl get you so drunk that you felt like you had double decker bus tire tracks across your forehead, the least your brain could do was let you remember why she'd thought it was worthwhile.

He was pretty sure that's how he got in this sorry state anyway, because under the sheet that was all that was over him, he could tell he'd parted ways with all of his clothes at some point. And the light told him it was at least late morning, if not early afternoon.

He was alone in bed, but he had at least vague hopes that Saiorse was around somewhere. Maybe getting him some all important coffee and hopefully an entire bottle of aspirin. He forced his eyes open. He took in the room for a second, then he scrambled up to sitting.

"Jack! Jack! Wake up!"

His partner, who was in identical circumstances in a bed a few feet of way, moaned softly and rolled onto his side.

"Ah! Son of a bitch," he growled, as he opened his eyes into narrow slits. "Oh my God, Mac, look at yourself!" Jack forced himself to sit up, too, with a hiss of pain.

Mac tried to focus for a moment and realized what had Jack trying to open his swollen and bruised eyes. Mac's whole torso was covered with bruises and by the feel of it, so was his face. He frowned at Jack though. "You're bleeding, Jack."

It was true. A cut that ran from one shoulder to the bottom of his rib cage on the opposite side of his body was still weeping blood. It had been deep by the look and feel of it, but it was also probably at least eight hours old.

"What the hell happened?" Jack rasped, his voice sounding hoarse, like someone with a bad cold, or someone who had been screaming. For a while.

"Better question," Mac said, gingerly tipping his chin in the direction of the window opposite them at the bare countryside spread out before them on a bright grey day and the sea in the distance. "Where the hell are we? And, more importantly right now ... " He gestured at the entirely empty room. "Where the hell are our clothes?"

0-0-0

Jack came back out of the bathroom, bed sheet draped around his hips since there weren't even any towels in this place. He'd assessed his injuries, and since the bruising and possible fractures where a problem for later as there was nothing to be done, he cleaned the cut on his chest with water and made a makeshift bandage out of part of the sheet he was currently wearing.

It probably needed, he glanced down at where the blood was seeping through the cotton already, roughly eight million stitches, but since they didn't have so much as a bar of soap between them in this whole room and adjoining bathroom, this would have to do.

He heard the doorknob and looked up in time to see Mac slipping back inside, carrying the sheet he'd slunk into the hallway wearing, clothed in what could only be described as a stereotypical old Irish man's outfit. Tweed jacket, tailored shirt, tan trousers, and brown loafers that looked to be about three sizes too small. For an average sized guy, Mac had ridiculously large feet.

Jack sunk down onto the bed, squinting at Mac, hoping for something resembling good news. "Please tell me you found some clothes for me, too."

Mac smirked, although it was an effort with his split lip. "You were the one who wanted to party, old man. Toga! Toga!"

He tossed the sheet he was carrying at Jack.

Jack was relieved when it landed on his lap with a little weight. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, bud," he said with the closest thing to a smile he could muster. Then he unfolded the sheet and glared at his partner as though Mac had just handed him a note that said he had to find his way home naked.

"Seriously?" Jack grumped, as he took out a grey custodial-looking uniform and heavy black shoes.

"It was the only thing I could find that was big enough for you, Jack. And I had to move fast. The lady of the house was in and out of the laundry room the whole time I was in there."

"Any idea where we are?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. This is Raithlin Island. One ferry a day back to the mainland. And we missed it."

"That doesn't really help, bud."

"We're on a remote Irish island, Jack. I saw Scotland when I went outside. So I guess one item off my bucket list. It's not fighting Vlad Putin in space, but it's not nothing."

"What else do you know about it?" Jack asked, glossing over Mac's teasing. His head still hurt too much to tease back.

"We're about fifteen kilometers away from the Mull of Kintyre, there's a rare hare here that has blue eyes and a golden coat … Mmmm. Oh and Robert the Bruce retreated here after being defeated by the English at Perth."

Jack frowned at his partner. "I meant anything useful to our situation, brainiac."

"Oh," Mac said, sounding almost surprised and reaching up and rubbing the back of his head absently. "Sorry ... I know we're in the oldest inn at the northernmost point of the island, so we're probably better off trying to get to Scotland than we are trying to get back to the Irish mainland if we want to get out of here today. The water's rough and the ferry might take the sea okay today, but none of the little fishing boats I've seen around belong out on the open water in this weather. And it looks like darker clouds are rolling in from the south. Ferry won't be back until noon tomorrow."

"And you don't think we should just wait here, call Matty and take the ferry back and get a new exfil."

"It's Wednesday, Jack."

"What?!"

"Yeah. I know." Mac rubbed the back of his head again. "Two days. And I don't remember a damned thing. So no, I don't think we should wait here where whoever they were, and I'm guessing not a concierge and her barmaid sister, left us. Besides Mrs. O'Malley is going around collecting the bills in between loads of laundry. And they didn't just take our pants. But what was in the pockets, too."

"Damn," Jack said more to himself than to Mac. He didn't really want to move. Right now if it would get him a couple of vicodin and permission not to so much as roll over for about twelve hours, Jack would have welcomed a bed in Phoenix Medical, no matter who was on duty. "So you stole us some clothes and you're fidgeting to beat the band. I'm guessing you have some idea of how to get us to Scotland?"

Mac grinned. "Go get dressed."


	2. Chapter 2

There were any number of things that made Mac not feel great this morning.

He felt bad about stiffing the O'Malleys for the room, and about stealing clothes out of their laundry, say nothing about the sheet Jack had torn to bandage the angry red gash across his chest. The couple looked to be about a hundred years old and whether he was forced by circumstances or not, he still felt guilty about it.

He didn't feel any better about the wallet he'd lifted, off the local constable, of all people. Nor was he thrilled that they'd stolen some poor bastard's fishing boat to get to Scotland. It was what he planned to do, sure, but since Phoenix wasn't backing them up, no one was stepping in right behind them to make things right, either by getting property back to its owners or compensating them for their loss.

The meal they'd bought in the town's one pub had seemed like a good idea at the time. For the truly hungover, food always seems like a good idea. Turned out that's what had Mac feeling the worst. He'd never been prone to seasickness, and the water was fairly calm this afternoon. But he found himself leaning over the stern for the third time since they'd gotten out of the small marina.

"Regretting that blood pudding, are you?" Jack asked, half in sympathy, half in slight amusement. Mac was not prone to excess when it came to alcohol or anything else, so seeing miserable, hungover Mac had a little bit of entertainment value.

"Regretting letting you talk me into meeting those women when what I wanted to do was watch soccer!" Mac growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jack shrugged, wincing at the pull on his chest. "Hangovers suck, pal."

"This is a lot worse than a hangover. I'd give about anything to know what the hell they dosed us with."

Jack gave a rueful shake of his head as he glanced at Mac. "I'm sure we'll find out. Losing two days like we did? No way Matty doesn't just order us to put up with getting every tox panel known to man … and a few she has to communicate with her home planet about."

"Right," Mac snorted, and Jack couldn't tell if it was with laughter or something else.

"What's so funny, bud?" he asked as they both got moving to ease the boat alongside an unoccupied dock with conveniently free mooring cables.

"Like we're gonna just tell Matty about this." He rolled his eyes.

Jack was on his feet, doing his best to tie off the boat to the nearest rope without setting his injured chest bleeding again. There was already a dark stain on the grey jumpsuit he was wearing from the wound continuing to slowly seep blood. Mac had already hopped up onto the dock and was tying off the back of the small craft.

"Mac, it's not like we can just pretend everything is fine. We lost two days, man. And we woke up naked, with no money, no papers, and no way out. I don't know about you, bud, but that has me pretty freaked out. You gonna tell me that doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it bother's me, Jack! But we can't tell the boss, who has a) been looking for an excuse to bust up our team since she got to Phoenix and b) is up to some shady bullshit when it comes to my father, that we let a couple of random women get the drop on us and lead us into God only knows what … and seriously only God knows because I don't remember … Ah, shit …" Mac sat down on the dock, holding his head.

He could hear Jack speaking to him, and after a moment or two, could feel his partner's warm hand, securely squeezing his shoulder, but he just shook his head slightly, too caught up in a memory to answer.

 _The music in the pub was deafening all of a sudden. Mac opened his eyes and the room swam. "Um, hey guys," he said in a voice that was a lot quieter than he wanted it to be. "I think I maybe went overboard here. I can't remember the last time I ate and …" he looked down at his plate and found he'd only consumed about half the chicken and leek pie he'd ordered. "I don't feel so hot. Hey Shersh," he addressed his companion with a slight slur. "You know the number to the local cab?"_

 _"But yer room's just up the street, Angus."_

 _"Yeah, I definitely can't walk that far. Jack! Hey Jack! If I get a cab, you comin'?"_

 _Jack lifted his chin, but not his whole head off the ample bosom of his date. "Um … sure, buddy. Gimme a minute to …" His head dropped again, with a contented sigh._

 _"Ah, love, don't putchureself out then. I've a room upstairs. And the idea was to gettcha there anyway." She paused and brushed his hair off his forehead, looking almost worried. "Seamus! Give us a hand, won't ya?"_

 _A trip un the stairs where he felt like his limbs weighed a thousand pounds. Each._

 _Falling onto cool sheets._

 _Someone carefully loosening his collar._

 _Sound of Jack moaning softly, but not in a way that said he found anything about what was happening pleasant._

 _"Sersh, what … what's happening …"_

 _"I'm sorry, love. I think I'd've liked you, but he paid us an awful lot of money."_

 _"Who paid …" He couldn't stick with the thought._

 _"Said his name was Murdoc. He should be here any minute. Said you'd think it was hilarious when you woke up."_

 _Cobwebs dissolved like dew in the sun, and Mac was suddenly sitting up. "No. Please. He's a killer. You have to help us get out of here."_

"Bud … Hey, buddy. You okay?" Jack was sitting next to him on the dock in the cool damp breeze now, an arm draped around his shoulders.

Mac shook his head, holding it in both hands for a moment, his mind dragging him back into that basement last fall. Chained to the chair of a killer who wanted nothing more than his pain. He pretended he wanted information, cooperation, but Mac knew, even drugged, that it had been a lie. All Murdoc wanted was his suffering. And ultimately his death.

Finally, he looked up at his partner and saw Jack's bruised and swollen face drawn into deep lines of concern. "Mac, what is it? You remember something about what happened to us?"

Mac groaned, closing his eyes for a second again before taking his hands away and looking up at Jack. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I remembered something."

Mac swallowed several times and Jack wished that in addition to the boat and a little bit of money Mac had maybe stolen a water bottle.

He asked carefully, "What'd you remember, bud?"

"We probably do need to call Matty," he said like an almost desperate admission. Jack was about to prompt him to go on, but Mac shook his head, like he actually meant to stop him.

"Mac, brother, talk to me."

"It's Murdoc."

"Well, shit."


	3. Chapter 3

"Mac, buddy, you with me?" Jack asked, jostling Mac's arm gently, squinting at the view down into the valley from where they were that Mac was staring at with an almost dreamy expression on his face.

Mac blinked and glanced to the side. He grinned, and it looked entirely genuine despite his just-starting-to-fade bruises. "Yeah, sorry. I know I should be figuring out what to do next. Just, this is pretty cool."

"What is, bud?" Jack prompted, glad that their little hike past the lighthouse and some pretty neat wreckage from historic plan crashes that this place was apparently known for because of the frequent dense fog and irregular cliffs had gotten Mac to lose the barely concealed look of a rabbit being chased by a fox.

It was a look Murdoc seemed able to engender by the mere mention of his name. Jack was going to consider it a legitimate personal affront from the universe if he didn't get to bust a cap in that guy at some point in the very near future.

"Sorry," Mac repeated. "This is Argyll though. It's where …"

"Where your name came from," Jack finished for him, remembering what Mac had said about his name last … no, three nights ago now. "That is pretty cool."

"I've just always been curious what it'd be like here. I was hoping to maybe take a vacation to find out," he shook his head and chuckled softly. "But since Madagascar was definitely a fluke …"

"Yeah … How you feelin' now that we're off the boat? I mean we've walked about forever, but …"

"We've walked five-ever at least." Jack grinned. That was a phrase Riley had made up during one particularly arduous surveillance that had struck them both as funny. He gave Jack a small smile. "I'm okay." Then he gave Jack a long look, noticing again where he'd bled into the jumpsuit, but it seemed to be dry now. "How about you?"

Jack shrugged. "Better once we get the hell outta Dodge and get back home where we know Captain Coocoo for Cocoa Puffs isn't just lurking nearby."

Mac nodded, sighing. "Yeah." He looked off into the near distance at the town they could see from the hilltop. "Not much further now."

"And we can just call Matty and go home and …"

"Um … yeah." Mac started off down the hill and Jack got the distinct impression that it was to avoid looking at him again.

"Mac," he said with a tone that was a combination or a warning and a plea. "We are calling Matty as soon as we get to town, right?"

"Um … Well, we could," he replied, picking up his pace a little. "We totally could do that. Sure. And we could totally get all the chewed out, and probably ordered indefinitely to Medical because we have no idea what happened or where we've been, and we could put up with not going back into the field until Matty's done her whole complete investigation of the incident thing she likes to do when a team can't just answer her every question during a debrief … We could do that."

Jack puffed out a long breath through inflated cheeks, wincing a little as he remembered the cut inside his mouth that was his best indication someone had connected with his cheekbone with their fist repeatedly. "But that's not what we're gonna do, is it?"

Mac glanced over his shoulder, flashing a quick grin. Jack didn't want to just go in either. He'd been suggesting it, being agreeable about it, because they were both banged up and felt like hell, and he always got special levels of helicopter parent worried if Murdoc was involved. But it wasn't because he wanted to. Jack hated leaving things undone probably worse than Mac did.

"I mean … I was thinking we could maybe try to figure out what happened first … Matty's still gonna be a nightmare, but if we come in with an explanation, maybe even a bad guy or two …" His voice went up at the end, inviting Jack to finish.

"She's only gonna be a pain in the ass, not go full Matty the Hun."

"Exactly." Mac nodded. Then he almost stumbled on the damp earth and Jack caught him by the arm, almost wiping both of them out. "Thanks, man," he said closing his eyes for a second to clear his head. Every once in while one of them would get all kinds of dizzy, so whatever they'd been doped with hadn't worn off yet. The started moving toward the town again, a little more slowly this time.

"Soooo … Whatdaya wanna do? Try to get ahold of Ri?"

Mac shook his head. "Nah. Matty'll be looking for that. I guarantee. And we're more likely to get somewhere going at this quietly than Phoenix is swooping in with a full, intimidating investigation team."

"What're we gonna do without Phoenix resources, Mac … And I swear if you say improvise, I'm gonna cuff you one."

Mac laughed, a genuine one, not forced for Jack's benefit. "You know me way too well, pal." He thought for a minute. "We have resources though. Just not official ones."

"Are you talkin about hitting up our very own version of the Lone Gunmen, Scully?" Jack asked with a light of realization brightening his features.

"Bet your ass I am, Mulder."

"Dude, when you drop a nerdy reference I actually get, I swear it makes my heart so damned happy."

"And since that thing's getting pretty old, I should try to make it happy more often."

"Very funny," Jack mock-glared at Mac's back.

"Let's double time it, Jack. We need a phone. And I need a nap while we're waiting for our back-up."

They increased their pace again, pleased to have a sort of a plan, and that it didn't involve getting yelled at all the way to California by one pissed off Matilda Webber.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack had thought Mac was just talking when he said he needed a nap. But, the minute they got into their small double room at the tiny bed and breakfast on the edge of Campbeltown Mac had shed his jacket and too-small shoes. He'd sat on the edge of the bed to make the requisite phone calls, using a memorized credit card number not tied to Phoenix.

After he'd finished those brief conversations, he glanced at Jack, who was sitting on the other bed, doing his best to keep the word 'helicopter' from being brought up. Mac waved the stolen wallet at his partner. "You want to go grab some actual clothes? There's not much here, but I did notice a few shops listed on the Chamber of Commerce thing at the desk. There's enough cash here for pants and a t-shirt so you don't have to wear a blood stained uniform until the team gets here."

Jack took it, frowning. "What are you gonna do? Don't you want to get some shoes that actually fit?"

Mac shrugged. "Not enough money for that, I don't think. Not after I paid up front for the room. Go see what you can find. I'm just gonna rack out here for a minute."

He stretched out on the bed with what could almost be described as a contented sigh but had too much of a groan in it to quite get there. He closed his eyes and draped an arm over them. A minute passed. Then several more.

"Quit staring at me, Jack," he said with a half-smile. He waited another minute. "Look, dude. We're both beat. Either go get some clean clothes or take a nap. Or go for a walk. I don't care. We've got hours before anyone is going to be in a position to help and …"

"You make me nervous when you own up to being tired or hurt or whatever, and," Jack began, an edge in his voice.

Mac uncovered his eyes and levered himself back into a sitting position with careful fluid ease. "And this involves Murdoc so you're afraid to leave me alone." His eyes searched Jack's for a minute. "That about cover it?"

Jack didn't see much point in denying it.

"Yeah, pretty much." He paused. They'd danced around the topic a fair amount. "Mac you have no idea the stuff that went through my head when I showed up after Paris and you were gone. Then, the bastard shot you … which strikes me as something he did just to test your reaction … Now this?" He paused again, Mac was nodding, but he was also smiling a little. 'What are you grinning at?"

Jack sounded almost pissed off. Mac figured he should head him off before he got into surrogate parent helicopter rant mode.

"Jack, think about it. If Murdoc had any idea where we were, would there have been any waking up, regardless of how less than ideal the conditions were?"

Jack's frown just deepened. "He let you wake up when he nabbed you back home," Jack replied, the warning growing in his voice.

"Yeah, restrained and drugged and right where he wanted me." Mac paused, this time frowning himself a little bit. "I'm not completely convinced he didn't let me escape either, after everything that went down afterward. Hell, I'm not even sure he didn't shoot Cage to get us out of the house so The Ghost could do his thing. I mean, he has been recruiting assassins."

"You realize you are not makin' me feel better right now."

Both Jack's eyebrows climbed to comical heights.

Mac ran a hand through his hair and found the nervous gesture felt pretty good on his aching head. "I actually kinda just made myself feel worse." The dry chuckle that followed didn't sound overly genuine to Jack. "We have to assume he's not right on top of us though. Go get some clean clothes for yourself, maybe grab us some takeout. I'm gonna lock the door behind you and close my eyes for a little bit."

Jack nodded. He supposed it made sense. This uniform made him awfully conspicuous. "You want me to ask the nice lady at the desk if they've got a first aid kit with some headache stuff in it before I go?"

Mac shook his head, lying back down again, this time on his side to feel the cool pillow against his face. "Pretty sure we haven't metabolized whatever we were dosed with. Not a good idea to take anything else, I think."

He closed his eyes in an effort to end the current conversation. He needed a break from thinking.

Jack stood. "Alright, kid. I won't be gone long." Mac nodded without opening his eyes again. "I'll lock up," he added. Mac nodded again, determined not to leave an opening for more talking. "Street smelled real good when we were comin' up it. I'll find us some dinner … And there's a distillery across town so I'm bettin' …" Jack baited him to respond.

He smiled a little when Mac finally cracked an eye open and spoke.

"Not adding anything to our systems applies to booze too, Jack."

"Just makin' sure you're still on your game, kid."

"Mmmm," was the tired reply.

Jack headed out, determined to be back in less than a half hour with clothes and food.

0-0-0

"Mac … hey, buddy. C'mon, wake up, man." Jack shook Mac's arm just a little less gently than he had been.

Mac's eyes felt glued together, but he pried them open anyway. "Was' up?" he asked, still half asleep.

"The Gunmen have landed. They're taking a cab from the airport now. Wanna go meet them in the pub?"

The thought of smelling steak and kidney pie … or what was the Scottish equivalent for that? Probably mutton … sheep tasted like sweatsocks no matter how you prepared it and he didn't give a good goddamn what his first name meant or where it came from at the moment … turned his stomach.

"How about some place that doesn't serve food?" he groaned, pushing himself up to sitting and realizing as he got his eyes all the way open that it was now full dark. "Damn, how long did I sleep?"

Jack shrugged. "About four hours." He smiled when Mac's eyes widened a little at the revelation. "You look better," he observed.

"So do you," Mac grinned. Jack had somehow managed to find black jeans and a black t-shirt that fit him decently. That had to feel better, being back in uniform, so to speak.

"Feel a little naked without my gun, but mostly I feel a million times better being dressed like me."

Mac grimaced as he got up to go splash some water on his face. "Let's agree to never say the word naked again … And I'm glad you feel better. I might feel halfway decent if I had some clothes that looked like mine, too," he mused, from just inside the bathroom door as he turned on the water.

"You mean you're not already comfortable? But you always dress like an old man," Jack teased.

Silence.

"You can quit flipping me off from the other room, dude."

Mac walked back in with no alterations in his hand gesture. "Better?"

"Much," Jack deadpanned. "We gonna go meet the guys, or what?" He half smiled when he saw Mac eyeing the too small shoes he'd stolen like they were a cliff he had to scale. "Feet hurt?"

Mac nodded. "Along with the rest of me."

Jack produced a pair of socks and some very broken in looking sneakers and handed them to his partner. "Second hand shop right around the corner. Everything I'm wearing, plus what I got for you and we're out about 6£."

"Thanks, man," Mac said with genuine gratitude.

Jack couldn't leave him hanging any more. From the other side of his bed he picked up the neatly folded light blue jeans and bright blue henley. "Including these."

Mac suddenly looked a lot less beat up and miserable just from the real smile that graced his face for a moment. "Jack Dalton, you are a genuine American hero." He left the room to change and when he got back looked much more like himself. "So the guys want to meet us at the pub?"

Jack nodded. "Thought you weren't up to it."

"I am now," Mac grinned. "I feel like a human being for the first time since we woke up and I'm actually kind of hungry."

They headed downstairs and then out to the pub next door, grabbing one of the booths. Jack was half pleased and half horrified when Mac ordered a string of things that Jack had actually never heard of, along with a beer, and a fair amount of flirting, that included his impromptu cover story about genealogical research, with their fair-haired server.

Jack ordered a burger and a water, with polite reserve.

When she stepped away from the Jack raised his eyebrows.

Mac just shrugged. "I told you dude, I've always wanted to visit here. I'm not letting getting roofied in a bar in Ireland ruin my first trip to Scotland."

Jack chuckled. That level of adaptability was so uniquely Mac that he couldn't really do anything else. "Fair enough. Got a game plan bouncing around that ginormous noggin? Cuz I'm still just tryin to shake the cobwebs off."

"I've got the start of one," Mac replied, waiting to go on as Wynnie, their server, deposited their drinks in front of them. Jack did not miss the wink she gave Mac when she put down his beer, nor did he miss that a card with her phone number went down with it and Mac quickly slipped it into the stolen wallet with an almost blushing smile up at her.

As the young woman walked away, Jack smirked at his partner. "Well, maybe you can tell me about it now that you're done trying to secure a future of blond Scottish babies."

Mac laughed outright at that. "It's just a phone number, Jack. Besides, man, she hit on me."

"You remember what happened the last time a pretty girl hit on you?"

Jack was teasing, but Mac frowned for a second. "No, that's actually the problem, right?"

Now Jack frowned as well. "What do you think they gave us?"

Mac shrugged. "Could have been a lot of things. Or, given how much we don't remember over the course of days, we might not even be feeling the effects of whatever they gave us in the bar. Concussion could do it, depending on where the blow was struck, or electroshock …" He paused. "Speculation isn't really helping, huh?" Jack shook his head. Mac sighed. "I'm starting to think it could be more injury related. I really looked over all my bruising and the nicks and cuts …" Jack widened his eyes a little as Mac owned up to the extent he'd been knocked around. "It honestly looks like secondary blast injuries."

"Like as in a bomb?"

Mac nodded slowly. "Doesn't mean we weren't drugged more … but I think maybe we got blown up, too. But just a little blown up," he hurried to add when Jack looked like helicopter parent mode was imminent.

"What are you thinkin' we need to do once the guys get here?"

Mac was thoughtful, taking a sip of his beer and tasting it carefully. Yep, just beer as far as he could tell. "Well, I'm hoping we can get street cams or satellite imagery of the inn around the time we were knocked out." He ran a hand through his hair, noticing that this time it didn't highlight the headache quite so much, so he was going to give himself points for feeling better. "I don't have much yet beyond that. We need some context before we can get anywhere." He thought about it for a minute. "Or I do anyway."

"You think that trick Cage used on you after we got you back last fall would help us at all or …"

"No." Mac realized that sounded very abrupt and he hadn't meant it like that. "I mean, it's a good idea, Jack. But I told you, I'm familiar with the principles from EOD training and … I've tried it. That's actually what I started out doing when I laid down before." He took a longer drink of his beer, made a little face, and reached for the water glass Wynnie had also brought him. "I get as far as hearing Saoirse say Murdoc paid them and I remember sitting up … Then we woke up … You know."

"But I don't," said the leggy redhead with shocking crimson lipstick who had come up beside him and practically slithered into the booth next to him, her purple leather leggings making a distinct slippery sound against the leather of the booth. "Other than the fact that someone stole you money and your papers and left you stark naked practically in exile."

Mac grinned and slid the rest of his beer toward her. "Jack and I have agreed to no longer use the word naked."

She downed what was left of his beer in one long drink and plunked it down on the table with a pointed look at the server currently staring daggers at her from several tables away.

Mac leaned over for the one armed hug that was absolutely necessary at this point in their association. "How've you been, Viz?"

"Rich," she replied with a smirk.

"The white hat game really pays that well?" Jack asked from across the table, eyeing the door, wondering where the other two people they were expecting might be, but not wanting to ask.

"Usually," she replied archly, with a raise of one perfectly shaped eyebrow that said she wasn't above wearing a darker shaded bit of haberdashery if the purse was fat enough. "So, what happened? You boys get burned?" she asked, leaning forward with keen interest.

Wynnie came up to the table just then with her order pad and pen ready, her demeanor much more business like than it had been previously. "Evening," she nodded almost formally at their new companion. "The lady with you, Angus?" she inquired with polite indifference.

Mac smiled his warmest, friendliest smile. "I told you Wynnie, it's just Mac. And the lady …"

Viz interrupted, "Is much more inclined to company such as you yourself could provide, Miss. But I've a sense I'd be wasting ink to offer you my number. So instead, I'll offer you a lovely tip if you bring the table a bottle of that twenty two year old Glen Alba I saw when I came in. And I'll offer you the spirit lifting information that your new friend Angus here," she smiled at his flushing face wickedly, "does seem to prefer blondes."

Wynnie flashed a slight flushing smile of her own. "Right away, Miss. Anything to eat?"

"Food is for the weak," she said with a throaty laugh. "You can call me Invisigoth, rather than Miss. Or Viz, if you like. Keep ice in my glass this evening and I'll make you happy you did."

Wynnie hurried off to fill Viz's order. Jack shook his head. "You have to flirt, dontcha? Even when you already know it's not gonna get you anywhere."

She winked at him. "I'll even flirt with you sometimes, Jack, just so you have the illusion you've got a prayer."

He laughed. Finally, he couldn't wait for the answer to reveal itself. "Where's the rest of the crew?"

"Casing the joint," Mac answered for her, tipping his chin toward the front window, where Jack just caught a glimpse of the tall dark figure ducking past, and then at the bar, where a short broad-shouldered man, was chatting with the bartender while also taking in the whole place. His back was to them, but there was no mistaking his stance or, now that he was alerted to it, his smooth velvet voice as it drifted through the bar over the other conversation.

As though he felt Mac's eyes on him, he man at the bar turned, gave a double raise of his eyebrows and strode over to their table. Mac elbowed Viz out of the way and she shifted over to Jack's side of the table as Mac got to his feet, wrapping the man in a tight embrace.

"How ya doin', Mac?" the man who was about Mac's age, maybe a little younger, and bore a distinct resemblance to the deliberate vixen sharing a seat with Jack, asked as he released Mac, getting a good look at him for the first time in the dim pub. "Other than recently blown up?" he added with a head shake.

Mac shook his head and slid back into the booth. "You think so too, huh? Guess that confirms it, Jack."

Jack nodded, "If Eggsy think so, it's probably a lock that's what happened." He absently scratched at his chest. "That ought to make it easier to find out what …"

"What I want to know is how we wound up in that room in Ireland with none of our stuff, Jack."

Mac was frowning again, looking around the bar, a slightly hunted look in his eyes. Mac had mentioned how Jack had a default setting when Murdoc was involved, but Mac had drifted into his, too.

"Why don't you take what I say that seriously, Jack?" Viz asked with a pout. "I was born first. By five years."

"You're a hell of a hacker, Viz, but being the big sister of Mac's first first battle buddy, only goes so far. Being that battle buddy on the other hand …"

"Battle buddy?" the pretty blond server asked as she returned, setting down a full bottle of whisky and a glass of ice in front of Viz. "You're a soldier the, Angus?"

Mac decided not to correct her about his name a second time, but also weighed if how pretty she was outweighed how much he disliked his given name being used after he'd asked someone not to.

"Used to be," he replied. "This is Miles Benedict. We served together a long time ago," he added to cover anything she might have overheard approaching their table.

"It's a pleasure, Miles," she said with a smile that told Mac he neededn't worry about what she called him, because she'd already moved on. "Bring you another beer?"

"Please," he said with a smile. He moved to sit down next to Mac while watching her walk back toward the bar and stumbled slightly.

"You okay, Eggs?" Mac asked as Miles regained his balance and slid into the booth.

Miles shrugged. "Yeah; new piece," he said, wrapping his knuckles against his prosthetic leg with a solid thud.

"Bother as much as it always did?" he asked with a frown that said he remembered how his friend wound up with it.

"Nah. This is a good one. Not as good as my running leg, but it attracts a lot less attention. Just need new callouses, I guess."

Mac nodded, then smoothly moved on, knowing that Miles was always willing to set Mac's mind at rest about his old injury since Mac had been there when it happened, but that he also preferred not to talk about it in front of others if he could help it. "Where's Elliot gotten to?"

VIz looked around the bar, squinting for a moment. "Elsewhere. If I had to guess, I'd say he's breaking into your room to do a sweep."

Jack grimaced. "I prefer to think of myself as the spookiest spy in the room but Elliot is legitimately creepy good."

"Don't you forget it, Dalton," said a silky voice from behind the high backed booth.

"Hey, Elliot," Jack said evenly, without glancing behind him. "Find anything?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I'm done looking," came the reply. The voice it belonged to already fading away into the crowd in the pub.

The stunning redhead across from him spun the laptop she'd been clicking away on toward Mac. "Check this out."

A street cam showed the two women Mac and Jack had met at the pub pushing a particularly heavy laundry cart up the street. Mac squinted at the stills as Viz advanced them manually. She watched his face carefully as the cart and the women were replaced by an empty sidewalk followed by the back of a tall man in a long coat striding toward the inn.

"Recognize anyone?" she asked carefully. Mac's jaw clenched. "MacGyver," she prompted, advancing the images another 40 frames. "Mac!"

"Yeah, Emily?" he asked absently, lapsing into the name he'd met her by when Eggs had been hurt and he'd been the one who'd called home, not wanting Miles family to hear about his heroism from official channels.

"Is that your guy?" she asked, knowing the answer from his resulting pallor when the figure reemerged facing the street cam.

"Yeah," Mac said quietly.

Jack raised a quizzical eyebrow, knowing what Mac was seeing but also hoping maybe the kid's not-so-latent distress from his fall encounter with the man was clouding his judgement.

"It's Murdoc," Mac finished, spinning the laptop back toward Jack.

"I really hate this guy," Jack said with deadly heat.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time everyone's food arrived, everyone except Viz that was – she'd said she was sticking to whisky and that's what she was going to do – they'd covered all the bases of what happened as far as they knew it, as well as what everyone had been up to since the last time they'd seen each other.

Wynnie seemed mildly disappointed when she delivered another round of drinks and heard Miles talking about his wife, but she barely missed a beat in renewing her flirting with Mac now that it was clear Viz had no interest in him. Her frequent visits to the table made it more difficult to keep the conversation going around things they wanted to cover, but Mac said, with a self-deprecating grin, that he appreciated attention from a woman who didn't appear to be hell bent on killing him.

When she put down his dinner plate in front of him, Jack said he wasn't so sure she wasn't. "What is that godawful mess?" He pointed at several scoops of amorphous mush of varying colors on the plate.

Mac laughed. "Well, I've never tried any of it. I just told her to bring me the most Scottish thing on the menu."

"Which means?" Jack prompted.

"It's um … Haggis for one. I think that's the brown stuff," Mac allowed. "And this is … tatties? Which I think are just mashed potatoes … and this sort of pinkish orangy stuff is called neeps. I honestly don't know what that is." He paused, frowning at it, and then just scooped up a bite. "It's turnips with a lot of butter," he answered with a relieved sigh. "It's really good."

"I'll stick to my burger, thank you very much." Jack just shook his head.

Mac shrugged, and started shoveling in his dinner, like he hadn't eaten in days. Then it occurred to him that he really hadn't had much. He glanced up at Jack and grinned when he saw the look of approval on his partner's face.

Miles was the one who commented on it though. "You must be starving, pal. I never even see you eat normal food with that much gusto."

Mac laughed. "You got to used to seeing me choke down MREs, man." Then he shrugged and said honestly, "We had a rough wake-up. I've just barely slept off the worst of whatever knocked us out, I think. Didn't feel like eating much. Now I kind of want to eat everything."

Miles nodded, taking a bite out of a very safe looking beef sandwich. "You guys okay in general though? Elliot brought his kit."

Mac shrugged. "We both definitely got knocked around … Which you already noticed. And Jack got a pretty bad cut." Jack threw him a glare and Mac hurried to add, "But it's starting to heal up."

"Sure it is. So, lemme just text Elliot that he maybe should meet us in your room just to be sure you don't really need any patching up."

"We're fine," Mac said, swallowing too much food with beer that had gotten warm. "Well, maybe he should have a look at Jack. It was a pretty bad cut."

Miles grinned. "And maybe if you slow down and sit still for five minutes he could help us figure out exactly what happened to you, too. That's what he does, professionally, when he's not skirting the law with us, you know."

"On dead bodies," Jack supplied. "He figures what happened to corpses, Eggs."

"And he's one of the best." Miles smirked. "He investigates corpses, he doesn't make them, Jack. And professional preferences aside, he still went to med school. He's more than qualified to take care of you."

Mac laughed. "My first inclination is to just stay here in the pub and have another beer, but you make a decent point." He looked at Viz who was clicking away on her laptop like there wasn't a noisy bar around her. "How you coming on that VOIP set up?"

Without looking up, she replied, "We can put in the call whenever you want."

"Call?" Jack frowned.

"Yeah, to Matty," Mac answered. He'd forgotten Jack had been in the bathroom when he had the idea to call in.

"You sure about that, bud? We are going to be in deep, the absolute deepest, smelliest pile of …"

"That's why I don't want to put off calling any more, now that Viz is here to help. Besides, I imagine Riley and Boze are about losing their minds right now."

"Jesus, I hadn't thought of that. We should go make the call," Jack was already getting to his feet now that he was thinking about how the rest of their team might be feeling about how they'd dropped off the map.

Mac stood, too. "I'll just go settle up. Meet you guys outside."

Mac headed toward the bar as Miles tucked a generous tip for their server under his glass. Then, he, Jack, and Viz started toward the door. They stopped by the exit and Miles grinned. "Well, our boy's game has improved beyond all measure."

They all glanced toward the bar where Mac was currently chatting with Wynnie. "That shy smile thing he does has always gotten him the girl, even when I should have been more than adequate competition," Viz huffed.

"That's not game," Jack said with fondness. "That's just Mac being Mac. People can tell when you're just tryin' to talk them out of their clothes, Viz."

She gave a throaty chuckle as Mac turned to join them and Wynnie grabbed him by the arm, spun him back toward her, and kissed him like she really meant it, completely out of nowhere. When Mac disengaged and finally turned to leave a few moments later he saw the group by the door had watched his whole exchange and he blushed furiously.

That didn't wipe the grin off his face at all as he breezed past them out into the light rain.

Jack caught up with him first. "Here I was all worried your face had to hurt from whatever the hell happened to us. Clearly, it's gonna be much worse off from that smug-assed smile you're wearin'."

"Yeah, well, worth it," he said, grin spreading. "She invited me home with her."

"Damn, son, what're you doing out here with us then?" Miles asked.

"Business first," Mac said with a little head shake. The rain felt good. His face was hot. "But I gotta tell you, I think I really like Scotland."

When they got up to the room, Mac let them in and flicked on the light. Even though he'd been half-expecting it, he startled when he saw Elliot sitting at the foot of Jack's bed. "Elliot! Why do you always do that, man?"

Elliot adjusted his glasses and smirked. "Because I can."

For a guy who looked vaguely like an overly bookish accountant, Elliot brought the word 'clandestine' to a new level. Of everyone Mac had ever run across, Elliot was probably one of his more useful connections. And honestly, as bizarre as he could be, Mac just plain liked the guy. "Yeah," Mac chuckled. "You can. Probably just about anywhere."

"I hung out in the West Wing of the Whitehouse once. Just to prove to myself I could do it."

Jack snickered. "I'd call bullshit, but you've probably got selfies to back yourself up."

"I do," Elliot smirked. "Eggs says you guys maybe need some patching up." He nodded toward the duffle bag sitting on the stand by the door. "Brought a little bit of everything in my kit, since we didn't know exactly what we were getting into with you guys."

Mac just unzipped the bag and started rifling through it.

"You do remember I'm the one with actual qualifications for dealing with, not to mention determining causes of, injuries, right?" Elliot asked, sounding just a little condescending.

Mac decided to just let it go. "I do. I'm actually more interested in one of your other skill sets at the moment." Mac pulled a theatrical make-up kit out of the bag and tossed it to Elliot. "I need to call my boss. And I don't necessarily want to explain the whole situation. Think you can make me look a little less like I took up MMA?"

Elliot squinted at him. "Probably. That eye is going to look swollen no matter what we do to it, but … Make the video call in a room with low light, keep your face moving, animated … She might not notice. Matty the Hun doesn't miss much though."

Jack looked taken aback. "You know Matty?"

Elliot stood up, opening the makeup kit and indicating Mac should sit. "Everybody worth a damn in the business knows Matilda Webber. And the smart ones know enough to be afraid of her. But then I never pegged either one of you boys as all that bright."

"Hey now, you can disparage my brains, but you leave Mac's right out that. He's the smartest guy I've ever met and that includes you, Dr. Mathers."

Mac chuckled. "Don't take it so personally, Jack. Elliot's just an asshole. But he gets the job done. That's why we like him." Mac flinched away a little as Elliot started working on covering up the fading bruises on his face.

"I love you, too, Mac," Elliot grinned. Mac rolled his eyes, as Elliot started to pay more attention to what he was doing. "Although I suppose since you're covering up … yeah, some of this is blast injury … But you also tangled with a pers … persons …" He dropped the makeup sponge. "Let me see your hands."

Mac puffed out a long breath. Should have known Elliot couldn't deal with things in a one job at a time kind of way. He held up his hands for inspection. "Well?" he asked, not sure of what the answer might be. He still felt pretty sore all over, but that didn't mean a fight, or at least it didn't mean a fair one.

"You got your licks in," Elliot said, dropping his hands and picking up where he left off, making Mac Matty-presentable.

Mac nodded. The fact that he hadn't just been blown up and beaten, just a victim of something, made him feel quite a bit better. He hadn't acknowledged that the thought was bothering him, but it had been. Quite a bit. "Good." Elliot stepped away, looking over his work. "I think you'll do."

"Thanks, man." He stood and took Viz's laptop from her. "You're sure this is going to be secure?"

She glared at him. "If you trust Elliot's work I damned sure hope you trust mine by now, Angus."

He glared back. Wynnie saying his name with her accent had been cute. Viz using it just to get a rise out of him was something else though. "I trust what you can do, Viz, but our team's tech expert is …"

"Artemis? Oh, she's good, I'll give her that. But I've got over a decade on her. Phoenix won't know where you are from this call." She paused, frowning at him. "Although, I'll be honest, Mac, Miles and I are always happy to see you, both of you. And we owe you big for bailing us out in Lisbon that time. But … why don't you want your team to know where you are, to send back up? We thought you'd gotten burn noticed when you called."

Mac and Jack shared a look. "Matty will call us back in. She'll insist. That woman is actually more protective than Jack, if you can believe it."

Miles laughed. "I'm not sure I do believe that, but … Viz makes a good point. Why not just go in?"

"Because …" Mac trailed off. He didn't know quite what to say.

"It's personal," Jack supplied. "Whatever happened … It started with us just tryin' to have one normal night in a nice town, just unwinding after work, having a beer, chatting up a couple of ladies who seemed normal levels of interested in us … And it got highjacked. If it had happened on the job … Maybe I wouldn't be so pissed off and freaked out … But it didn't. So I am."

Mac nodded slowly. "That's it. That's it exactly." He headed into the bathroom with the laptop, thinking that the shower made a nice neutral backdrop for his call. He turned back to the group before closing the door. "This guy, Murdoc … He's been a real problem for a while. This is the second time this year he's responsible for me waking up kicked to crap and not remembering everything. There's no way for me to take that other than personally."

0-0-0

When Mac came back out about fifteen minutes later, he looked a little surprised, and more than a little upset. He cleared his throat. "Come up with anything interesting while I was gone?"

Jack knew Mac was buying a minute before telling them what Matty said so he just grinned. "Just that Elliot has cold hands and he should definitely stick to corpses patient-wise." He scratched at the edge of the tape of the new bandage Elliot secured over the long cut on his chest.

"Corpses definitely whine a lot less than Jack," Elliot agreed. In response to Mac's silent question he went on. "Knife wound, not caused by debris. Attacker was taller than Jack, strong, fast, but some limited movement on the dominant hand. I'm guessing from a recent injury."

Mac nodded slowly, crossing the room to hand Viz back her laptop. He sat down on the bed next to Miles. "Um … Thanks guys. For the papers, and the money, and getting here so fast."

"Welcome," Miles said with a small knowing smile. "And we should get the hell out of here on the double, right?"

Mac actually smiled. "Yeah, probably, unless you want to meet the rest of Team Thunderstallions. Who are already en route to the local airport from Dublin."

Jack cracked up. "How did you even know that's what I call …"

"Jill told Bozer. He thinks it's hysterical. Also she seems to think if she remembers the stuff you say, eventually you'll get her name right." He gave Viz a wry smirk. "Artemis says hello."

"Goddamn it." Viz started jamming her laptop back into her bag.

Miles and Mac stood at the same time. Mac extended his hand, and though Miles took it, he used it to pull Mac into another brief embrace.

Mac smiled and said, "So I think this makes us even for Lisbon, Eggsy."

Miles shook his head. "Not a chance, Hollywood. We're never gonna be even for Lisbon. Say nothing about you hauling me out of that jeep before I could bleed out. Could've lost a hell of a lot more than my leg that day, man."

Mac just shrugged. "Maybe we could just get together sometime. Have a beer. Tell lies about when we were in the Army. Jack has some really good ones."

"I do not lie about …"

"I was there for a lot of it Jack," Mac managed a grin, but Jack sensed his tension just under the surface of these pleasantries.

"Sounds good, man. And maybe I'll leave the petting zoo home."

"That'd be nice," he grinned at the mock offense Viz and Elliot took at their conversation.

"Is there anything else we can do, Mac?"

He shook his head. "Get clear. Make sure you don't have a tail. Let us know when you're safe home. The usual way would be good."

"Sorry you got busted, man. But I'm glad you didn't get burned."

"Same," Mac said with a little nod. He saw the trio out, then sunk back down on the bed opposite Jack.

"So … Busted, huh?"

"Ri was through Viz's security protocols in under two minutes." He sighed.

"How much trouble are we in?" Jack squinted like the answer already hurt.

Mac frowned. "None. Not really anyway. Matty was weirdly understanding. Concerned, but understanding."

"So, instead of ordering us in, she's sending a team?"

Mac nodded, still frowning. "Yeah, um, they should be here by midnight from what she said."

"Who? And more importantly why?"

"Just … um … Just her and Riley I guess." He paused again. "She has video she showed me a clip of."

"And?" Jack prompted.

"There's an underground bunker in it. Murdoc leaving. She fast forwarded, then there's us running out, right before it blows. We got caught in the blast a little."

"Where?"

"Belfast, I guess." He paused again.

"That's good, right? Some evidence of what happened?"

Mac nodded. "Murdoc sent Matty a text. On her personal phone." He and Jack both swallowed hard. "It just said, 'This isn't over. M'."

"Well, ain't that some shit."

"Pretty much." Then he half smiled at Jack. "Piled just as deep as you predicted."


	6. Chapter 6

Matty was pissed. She was keeping a really tight lid on it, but Mac had gotten pretty good at reading her. He'd been a lot more vigilant about observing her behavior, facial expressions, moods, since he found out for sure that she knew something about his father. Thing was, Mac didn't think she was pissed at him and Jack. It seemed more internalized than that.

Still, Mac felt responsible for the situation they were in. He knew he could be impulsive sometimes, but Jack making a bad decision when there were women involved wasn't exactly new. Hell, he'd practically broken his neck on a mission two weeks after Mac had met him years ago because he was trying to pick up some random rock he thought would look nice on the desk of some woman he knew back home. Mac should have just said no to those drinks days ago.

If he had, they'd be home in LA enjoying the end of a long weekend after a successful, uneventful mission, instead of nursing injuries that had been more triaged than treated, and trying to come up with any useful memories through a haze of low level concussion and the aftereffects of some drug they didn't even have a tox panel to identify.

"Matty," he interrupted her latest stream of questions. "I'm so sorry."

"You still don't remember anything? Because I thought the line of questioning might help." She frowned her concern.

"Not that. I mean, I don't remember … But I meant more generally that we're in this mess. Should have just stayed in the hotel room until exfil was available and …"

"Good grief, Blondie, you were in Dublin on Saint Patrick's Day. Of course you wanted to go out. I'm actually happy you did. You need to loosen up a little or you're going to burn out."

Jack took a break from alternating between rubbing at his temples and itching his recently patched up chest to give Matty a little grin. He was always saying something similar to Mac. However, he knew how his partner's brain worked, so he added. "Besides Mac, if anything it was my fault. I spent a lotta time chatting with Ailbe before I came and gotcha. I shoulda known somethin' was off."

Matty actually gave Jack a very understanding look. "Nobody's blaming you either, Jack."

"You sure, Matty? Cuz ya sound kinda upset."

"Of course I'm upset, Jack!" she glared. "Murdoc knew where you were, almost got a couple of locals to hand you over, and texted me to gloat about it on my personal cell phone!" Her expression softened. "I'm not particularly thrilled that I wasn't the first call you two made either."

"Matty, I …"

"Can it, Blondie." She paused, glancing at Riley. "What have you got on the video from Belfast? Anything new?"

Riley frowned, but didn't answer. That was an expression they didn't see very often. Everyone leaned forward a little in their seats. Finally, Jack asked very quietly, "Ri, honey, what've you got?"

"Um … I've got nothing new except more static. However, your buddy … Invisigoth … Like who makes up a name like that?"

"Um, I don't know … Artemis …" Mac managed a grin.

She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, breaking the tension in the room a little, before spinning the laptop around so they could see it. "Yeah well, your friend …"

"Her name's Emily if that makes you feel better," Mac interjected.

This time Ri actually smiled. "It does, actually. Anyway, she might be crap at encryption, but decryption is apparently her jam."

They watched as the video Matty had shown them earlier came back up, but this time, Riley was able to back it up. The women, Ailbe and Saiorse ran out of the bunker first, followed almost a full two minutes later by Mac and Jack. Then the explosion that threw them to the ground.

The satellite image dissolved into static again. Jack was about to say that wasn't much in the way of new information when the static cleared again.

This time, a tall slender man strode into the frame. There was no mistaking the carefully chosen dark turtleneck and slacks, heavy black boots, or billowing black leather coat and gloves.

Jack noted the way Mac shifted uncomfortably and frowned. It was his default reaction to even the mention of Murdoc's name these days, but this seemed more distressed.

Then Jack saw why.

Mac was anticipating what came next.

Murdoc looked up, like he knew he was being watched, and he grinned his huge sharks grin, and waved like he was in an old home movie. Then Murdoc tipped a sarcastic two-fingered salute and walked casually out of the frame.

Everyone heard the click of Mac swallowing.

"He let us go. He let us go and followed us to see what we did. Whatever it was that happened, he set up all of it ... Again," Mac finished, practically growling.

Jack nodded slowly, unconsciously flexing his hands in and out of fists. "And he wants us to know, pretty clearly."

Matty shook her head. "Maybe not. Maybe that video was for someone who's footing the bills. Your other hacker friend sent it to us … and it's partially degraded so …"

"No," Mac interrupted, with an almost stern finality. "He's playing a game again. And we're the pieces." He stood in frustration and started pacing the small hotel room again. "But what's the game? It's all moves and countermoves with him. But it's like playing intergalactic 3-D chess with a Wookie. We don't know the rules, the other pieces have a mind of their own, and anything we do is just as likely to get our arms torn off as anything else."

He ran both hands through his hair in frustration, wincing at the pull on his many bruises. What he wanted was his bed at home, about half a bottle of Advil, several of whatever over-proofed IPA Jack had brought to their last cookout, and a freezer full of ice packs. What he had was a puzzle he didn't even know how to begin solving, and a headache vying for at least thirty percent of his attention.

"And since we can't really remember anything that happened, we don't even really have a place to start to figure it out!" he concluded with a frustrated sigh.

Jack gave a little answering sigh of his own. "I'm probably gonna regret saying this out loud." Everyone turned and looked at him. "But if they drugged us to make us forget … Isn't there … I don't know … some kinda drug that would make us remember?"

Mac shook his head, and hurried to explain, mostly because he was thinking that even if such a thing existed, he was not going to put himself at Matty's mercy in any kind of altered state. He wanted to trust her, he really did. But he was certain she knew something about his father, and was even more certain she was up to something. He was going to remain reserved until he knew what. He also had an overwhelming urge to protect Jack from whatever that was, too.

"There's barely good treatments for Alzheimers and other conditions that affect recall, Jack. Psychopharmacology just hasn't bothered much with that sort of research. It's mostly focused on how to induce amnesia for things like surgery, short term, and the long term stuff has mostly been focused on memories associated with various forms of PTSD … As far as I know anyway."

He looked at Matty then. Enhanced interrogation was one of the things she was more well versed in than anyone here. She probably had more knowledge of it than he'd be entirely comfortable hearing about, as a matter of fact.

Matty nodded and gave Jack as half amused smirk. "As much as I'd love to have access to a drug that could a) solve your memory problems here and b) make you remember and apologize for all the ways you've pissed me off over the years, Mac is right. No such drugs exist. Well …"

"Well, what?" Jack asked, suddenly wishing he really hadn't said it out loud because now Matty was raising her eyebrows in a wouldn't it be fun to turn Jack into a lab rat kind of expression.

"There is some research being done into intravenous memory enhancing compounds for the purposes of interrogation," she paused, letting Jack flinch at the very idea. "But … they're still in an extremely experimental stage … And are nothing I would want to see two friends subjected to. Especially not two friends who have pasts like you do."

She and Mac shared a small smile at Jack's look of relief. Mac didn't meet her eyes for long though. She noticed, but didn't comment. "But … and I have a feeling Mac is going to laugh at me now …"

"What?" Mac asked. She hesitated. "Matty, I'm a skeptic, sure, but I'm also a scientist. Being open minded is kind of a requirement."

"If I thought it would help, would you be willing to try hypnosis?"

"Hey, yeah, like a show in Vegas!" Jack grinned. Somebody dangling a pocket watch in front of him was a hell of a lot more attractive than somebody poking him full of holes and screwing with his brain that way.

Mac just frowned.

"Mac?" Matty prompted.

He walked over to the window. Opening himself up like that … to Matty of all people … Not his first choice. He also had a sneaking suspicion that given his frequent inability to relax unless he'd run ten hard miles uphill, he was probably a poor candidate. But Jack wasn't, because that was how he'd quit smoking when he'd gotten back from Afghanistan. He resolved that if Jack couldn't give them enough, he'd do it.

"Yeah … I guess," he finally said with a little hesitation.

"I'll go first," Jack said, reading his partner like a comic book. Then he grinned at Matty. "So long as our fearless leader promises not to make me cluck like a chicken."

Matty looked between the two agents, wondering exactly what was going on that she didn't know for certain about, and thinking, probably too predictably, that this might be a chance to find out. "No promises, Dalton."


	7. Chapter 7

Mac watched the whole thing with a combination of amusement and discomfort. He had to admit, though not out loud if he could help it, Jack was a funny guy. Even hypnotized there was humor in many of his friend's words. It helped break up the discomfort. It was a weird combination of not knowing what happened, knowing Murdoc was involved, and wanting, but not quite being able, to trust Matty ever since he'd seen her face in the film he'd found at his father's cabin.

Mac hoped this would give them the answers they needed so they could just get out of here.

Jack had apparently been conditioned enough through his smoking cessation program that inducing hypnosis was easy because it only took Matty a few minutes to get Jack to take a trip back through his thoughts and experiences to that bar where all this started.

He half smiled at Jack's third, "Well shoot, I didn't notice. She was awful pretty." It was invariably followed by Jack beginning to describe Ailbe in the enraptured terms of one both slightly smitten and in the happy state of being able to recall every detail.

Matty's voice was soft and neutral, almost soothing. It was strange to hear her speak without her signature acerbic wit or sharp tone. She was even keeping her annoyance at Jack's tangents out of her tone, though she couldn't quite keep it off her face.

"So then you went back to your hotel room?"

"No, no we went to their room. They had a room over the pub for the night."

"They had a room rented over the pub?" Matty cocked an eyebrow at Mac. He shrugged. He remembered lying down on a bed, but couldn't for love or money remember where that bed had been or to whom it belonged.

Mac shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Jack saved him from further scrutiny by frowning and mumbling, "Yeah, they did. But they lived in town. Sersh said …" he trailed of. "Words," he concluded lamely.

"Murdoc rented the room," Mac observed, quietly enough that he hoped it wouldn't disturb Jack. Riley started clicking away on her keyboard and Matty resumed questioning Jack.

Unable to sit anymore, Mac got up and paced the room, trying to ignore both how beat up and miserable he felt, as well as the gnawing certainty that none of this mattered, that it was all another sick game of Murdoc's that served no purpose other than giving him some suffering to entertain himself with. He seemed to find Mac's suffering especially diverting.

Mac alternated between wearing down the carpet by passing back and forth in front of Riley and leaning against the window sill with his arms folded sighing quietly at how little additional information Jack was able to come up with despite the enhanced focus and guidance of the hypnotic state he was in.

Mac's ears perked up when Jack said, "They came back though. Well, maybe they came for their money but they cut us loose. It wasn't in time for Mac to disarm the bomb but …" Jack's slow sleepy voice paused for a long moment. "They helped us get away but … I … it's all black again."

So the women had helped them. Twice. And Murdoc has rented the room. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get started with. Mac returned to sit in one of the beds across from Jack. He studied his friend carefully as Jack sat up and gave him a grin. "I swear that's always like the world's best nap. And we got somethin'!"

Matty looked equally pleased. "Anything on that room, Riley?"

Riley glanced up and shook her head. "The pub and inn are ancient and it doesn't look like they have much in the way of tech I can get into. All I've got so far is their credit card reader, but I'm mining that data for names against what these guys gave us on the women and Murdoc's known aliases, but so far, nothing."

Matty turned to Mac. "You've got a better natural memory than him, Blondie. Maybe we should see what we can get out of you."

Mac fidgeted for a second. "I'm not a good candidate for hypnosis. I already told you that."

Her forehead creased. "Would it hurt to try?" she asked, managing to sound less irritated by his resistance than she felt. She'd been damn near frantic when they hadn't shown up for exfil and had spent the two days they were off the grid having Riley and half of the rest of Phoenix comb every satellite photo and street cam in Western Europe for their faces.

Mac shrugged. "It won't work … Let's not waste the time." Neither she not Jack could fail to notice the way Mac's eyes flicked between his father's watch and Matty's face. "We've got a lead in Dublin and if we're going to investigate it, we should probably hit the road before the trail gets any colder than it already is."

He stood, as if that alone would close the subject.

Matty stood as well, if only to put herself between Mac and the door. "A lot of people are difficult to hypnotize, Mac. But I'm good at it."

Mac shrugged again, an almost uncharacteristically young gesture. "I've tried it," he said in an unusually insistent tone. "It doesn't work."

"I could see if we could get something from the local pharmacy to …"

"Not a chance," he said in a much more normal 'I know what I'm talking about' manner. "I've had enough of people drugging me to get what they want to last a lifetime. Or drugs in general, really. It was true before, but after the last couple of days here, I may be off Tylenol permanently," he finished was one of his most charming grins.

If Matty could see the mistrust that Jack noticed in Mac's eyes, she didn't give any indication. "Alright. Seems like we have enough to get started investigating what happened more seriously. At least the room over the bar in Dublin is a place to start," she concluded. "I'll arrange for a team to come in and get on it, and we'll get you guys back to Phoenix to …"

Mac and Jack interrupted her simultaneously. "No way! This is our op." Then they exchanged a slight grin. Always nice when your partner was on the same page.

"Guys, you're banged up, possibly still suffering from whatever you got dosed with, exhausted, and too close to this! We all know if you get a sniff of Murdoc you're going to be more prone than usual to doing something stupid. Shape you're in, stupid will probably get you killed."

This time Jack was the one to try a charming smile on the boss. "Well now, that's what you're here for Matilda. Who'd dare do somethin' stupid with you watching and bein' right there to holler at them?"

Riley snorted and she and Matty shared a look. Mac and Jack both got the feeling that the two of them commiserated about the trials of caring about this ops team a fair amount.

Matty sighed, but nodded, getting out her phone. "Alright. We'll go to Dublin. But if the room is a dead end, we're going home."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack agreed readily.

Mac gave a non committal shrugging nod, but stayed silent.

Everyone one else had the fleeting thought that if that room in Dublin turned out to be a dead end, they could take Mac home, but it would make Murdoc even more difficult to pry out of that busy blond head.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N - I know it's been a while with this one. If you're still with me, thanks for hanging in there. I've been agonizing over how to end it. I was trying to decide if the guys got to know what happened. I sort of decided this made more sense in cannon if they don't. Mac just flaking out to Nigeria makes more sense if he's way round over more than his father. So this is what my internal struggle yielded. I was inspired to finish this as a tension breaker. I've been competing in the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge and turned in a story I'm proud of in Round 3 this weekend. Also my novel Always Darkest just won Best in Fantasy 2018 on iHeart Radio's Book Talk Radio Club this weekend too. What better way to celebrate than to finally bail these poor guys out of the mess I got them into when I was bored on Saint Pat's? Shout out to Gib and DIwells51 for beta reading my project this weekend and beta reading my fics literally whenever I ask!_

Mac leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. The lines in his forehead, around his eyes made him look older. Or maybe that was his eyes themselves. They held a pained faraway intensity that had Jack and Matty exchanging concerned glances as they searched the room.

They'd arrived to find the room booked until the end of the week. It was under the name Sean McCready and the clerk had readily identified a picture of Murdoc and the lovely business traveler from Belfast who paid cash and tipped very well.

"Add another alias to the pile," Jack growled as they filed up the stairs.

Riley was walking and typing as she so often did. "Damn," she said as the arrived at the door. "This one is a gold mine of connections to disappearances all over the UK."

Matty moved to open the door with the old fashioned room key the woman at the desk had given them. Mac reached out and stopped her with a hand settling on her shoulder. "Wait." Everyone turned to look at him. "He wanted us to come back here, wanted us to find this."

"That doesn't make a whole lot of sense, Blondie."

He put himself between the rest of the team and the door to the room. "Sure it does. Why not let the room get cleaned and rented out. Let the staff destroy any evidence here. Why keep it?"

Jack made a noise that Mac took to be an intense effort to not let loose with a string of words he didn't say in front of "the women folk". Mac had long since stopped trying to convince him that was sexist and just nodded his head, affirming Jack's inarticulate acceptance of what Mac was implying.

"If he knew we were coming back here, what are the odds this isn't boobytrapped?" Mac asked rhetorically.

Jack answered anyway. "Floppity gillion to none, probably. So …"

"So everybody take a walk while I clear this," Mac answered, peering at the doorknob and then squatting down to get a better look.

"Fat chance, Mac," Riley said after sharing a look with Matty.

"Yeah, what she said," Jack agreed with an approving nod.

"I second that emotion, Baby Einstein," Matty chimed in.

"I thought we weren't doing that anymore." Mac dropped down, lying on the floor to get a look under the door, wishing he were a shade less beat up as he did so. "I did get him to stop calling you Matty the …"

"Hey, now, partner, no need to go dredging up the past." Mac flashed a slightly mischievous grin up at Jack and Matty both. Jack squatted down next to him. "Since we're not leaving you here alone just in case Lord Nutbar is right behind that door, what can we do to help?"

"Actually … can one of you run down to the lobby and see if there's any metal hangers in the cloak room? I wouldn't hate a couple of those."

Riley knew Jack was pretty beat up, so in terms of speed she was the next logical choice. "Be right back."

Mac didn't even hear her. Nor did he hear Matty and Jack talking behind him, not even when his name came up. He was too focused on making sure the door wasn't rigged. When Ri returned with a metal hanger, apologizing that there was only the one because most of the ones in the cloakroom were wood or plastic, Mac thanked her absently. He deftly unwound the metal, straightened it out, and began feeding it under the door the long way, hooked end first.

Jack frowned down at Mac's back. "What're you doing now?"

No answer.

"Mac … Mac, buddy … Mac!"

Mac glanced around, suddenly remembering his team was with him. "The door seems clear. I'm just trying to verify there's no tripwire right inside. I think we're good though. Once were in, I'll clear the room."

Matty stepped forward with the key again, but Mac took it from her. "If this is rigged and something happens, you're already injured, Blondie."

"Exactly," Mac said like she was just confirming his plan. "One less member of the team rendered to less than full capacity by Murdoc if this goes sideways."

Neither Matty nor Jack had time to argue with him. He had the door open, looked quickly around, and was inside before either of them could think twice. "No wonder you two are always in trouble," Matty observed as she headed in behind Mac.

Drawing the weapon Matty had brought him, just in case, Jack followed. Ri was right behind them and managed to have the presence of mind to close the door behind them in spite of the scene in front of her.

It was very clear why the 'Do Not Disturb' sign hung from the door knob outside.

The room was a shambles. Furniture was knocked over. The two full sized beds were unmade, everything but the mattress coverings on the floor. One of the beds had a fair amount of blood on the bottom sheet. On the nightstand was a long curved blade with blood dried on it. On the desk were bottles of unlabeled liquids of various colors, syringes. On the other night stand were restraints, gags, and an old fashioned Polaroid instant camera..

From how still Mac was standing, no one thought there was a single detail in this room that he wasn't taking in in minute detail. It seemed he'd forgotten that he meant to check the room for other booby traps though. He was still as stone.

Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "Well, at least I'm pretty sure I know why Elliot needed to glue up half my front," Jack said almost lightly in an effort to get Mac to look around at all.

Nothing.

The young man didn't even breath.

Jack and Matty exchanged a look.

"Listen Blondie," Matty began. He didn't react.

Riley shook her head. She moved forward and just put her arm around Mac's waist. "Hey, Mac, let's sit down a minute, huh?"

He didn't answer. But he did let her move him toward to unbloody bed, and his legs bent like he was sitting down with her on purpose.

Riley tossed a glance at Jack and Matty, but quickly refocused on Mac's profile, not sure if she should say the first thing that came into her head. The lost looks on Matty and Jack's faces said it was kind of the only option.

"When you went undercover to trap El Noche all I could think of was when I was in prison. I … I really couldn't do my job effectively. I still feel responsible that you wound up on your own, that you got hurt. If I'd been on my game that wouldn't have happened. I'd have found a way in and gotten Jack to you faster."

Finally his eyes flicked to her face. "That wasn't your fault. Don't do that to yourself."

Her arm went around his shoulders. "I'm not finished … I kept telling myself to focus, to finish. I kept saying I could get on top of my feelings and have a good cry in my shower after we got home. But I never really got there. I should have had Thornton pull me out. But I didn't think I had a choice. So I stayed. Distracted."

"Distracted Riley is better than Focused Just About Anyone Else on a keyboard, Ri," Mac said, sounding more like himself.

She squeezed him gently. "Thanks, Mac. But my point is, you don't have to stay here and work this scene, feeling like this. Anyone can see your brain is more than half in a basement in LA and another third in memories you can't quite catch ahold of. That doesn't leave much for real thinking or defending yourself if the bastard shows back up."

He wanted to argue, but she was right. The memory of the damp smell, the cold metal chair, the bite of the cuffs, the needle driven deep while those blank black eyes bored into his … It was all too vivid. And his brain was struggling to come up with what had happened … here, on the street, in the bunker from the video, with how they wound up in that room on the the island. But it was all just static with occasional disturbing little flashes.

"I … I'm okay," came out of his mouth almost automatically. He stood back up abruptly. "But you do have a point. We need one of the crime scene teams to go over this place. All we can tell from what's here is it's either where he brought us and drugged us some more and beat the hell out of us or it isn't but he wanted us to think it is. That doesn't get us anywhere."

Matty took a step toward him. "It's not like you to give up so easily."

Mac's eyes flashed. "You tried to convince us to leave, to let you call in another team the whole way here! Now that I've agreed it's suddenly a bad idea?"

"Of course not! What I was about to say is that you're usually like a dog with a damned bone and I'm glad you realize you don't have superpowers and that it's okay to let Phoenix …"

A knock at the door made them all jump. Jack slid between everyone else and the door, gun in hand, but held off to the side so it wouldn't be visible from the hall. "Yeah?" he called through the door.

"Front Desk," a heavily Irish female voice answered.

Jack cracked it open warily. A young woman with short dark hair wearing the hotel's green uniform vest stood there holding an iPad. "What can I do for you?" Jack asked pleasantly, just like he wasn't holding a nine millimeter firearm just out of her line of site.

"Is there someone here called Angus?" Jack just nodded. "This was delivered for him." She held out the iPad.

Jack took it, not allowing his reluctance to do so to show. "Thank you, Miss." Matty quickly took the device from him and passed him a folded bill so he could tip her. After he closed the door, he turned to Matty and Riley who were both looking over the device, but not lifting the cover. Mac's back was to them, looking over the rest of the room slowly.

"Well?" Jack demanded.

Matty was going to speak but the sound of a FaceTime call coming in rang from the iPad's speakers.

 _Aaaaannndd, that'll be Murdoc_ , Mac thought. _Right on cue._

Matty opened it and was unsurprisingly greeted by the liquid ink reptilian eyes of everyone's least favorite assassin (which was saying something in their line of work). "What the hell did you do to my people, Murdoc?" Matty snapped.

"Well, hello to you, too, Matilda. Since you were so wonderful with him, I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear that Cassian sends his greetings as well."

If he was looking for a reaction he was going to be disappointed. "I asked you a question."

Murdoc gave an elaborate roll of his eyes. "We just had a little innocent fun. Isn't that what Americans who find themselves in Ireland for Saint Patrick's Day are supposed to do? Get a little altered? Maybe get in a few fights? Try to blow me up to save a couple of ladies who got in over their heads by crossing me? Well, maybe not that last part, but it added to the charm for me."

"Where are they Murdoc?" Mac asked sharply, stepping into the camera's field of view. "What happened to Saiorse and Ailbe?"

"There he is!" Murdoc said almost reverently. "I meant to ask this while we were having our chat before … I can't remember if I did, and I know _you_ can't … How is that shoulder, Angus? It was a nice clean shot but I was a little worried when you didn't go right back to work."

Matty heard the dry click of Mac swallowing, but felt a swell of pride in him at the slightly defiant but mostly disinterested face he made at Murdoc. "It's fine. Some of your best work. Did I remember to thank you for it when you drugged me _this_ time?"

There was steel in his voice and Murdoc's eyes widened fractionally. His composure remained intact though. "I don't recall if it came up," he remarked wryly. "And before you start shouting at me about the other point, the sisters Howard are just fine. They'll be back at their workaday jobs now that I retrieved my money. Although I imagine they'll have a bit of a hangover after this weekend. I terrible at mixing cocktails. And once you dump a thing directly into someone's blood stream, it really is a bit of a crap shoot."

Jack growled, "Speaking of which …"

"Don't bother, Jackie boy. I'm not going to run down the list for you. Besides our Matilda has a whole department or three dedicated to that sort of thing. I'm sure they'll be very thorough and assuage your concerns, Jack. And won't that be fun for you?" He cocked an amused eyebrow.

"You son of a …"

Mac interrupted. "What do you want Murdoc?"

"Just to see how you're faring, Angus. You performed well beyond any of my expectations during this little exercise, even at less than full capacity." There was real admiration in Murdoc's face, or at least that was what he wanted them to see. "I had to know your little escape in Los Angeles and your capture of our dear Mr. Fletcher wasn't a fluke."

Mac's jaw tightened but he resisted the urge to say anything.

"So tight lipped, Angus. Every time I think I'm going to get you talking, even just about the local sports scene, you clam right up. It's as admirable as it is irritating."

Mac had a split second where he hoped it was true, hoped he'd disappointed Murdoc with his ability to stay silent even when under real duress. Any number of ex-girlfriends could probably attest to his stubbornly quiet streak. Any number of bad guys, too. Instead of revealing his almost desperate worry that he'd given up any important intel, he plastered on a smirk. "Sorry to disappoint."

Murdoc might not have heard the near catch in Mac's voice, but Jack did. "Yeah, only like hashtag sorry not sorry, Señor Psychopath."

Riley motioned for them to keep him talking as she typed a million miles an hour and Jack opened his mouth for another taunt but apparently Murdoc knew what they were up to.

"I'm so sorry to cut this short, but I am on a clock. Reliable babysitters are at a premium, don't you know."

Mac couldn't contain 100% of his anger, his disquiet, try though he might. "Why?" found its way out before he could stop himself.

Murdoc grinned. "I told you, I wanted to see what you'd do. And to be honest I wanted to see what Phoenix would do … what your higher ups would do. What your Oversight would do." He paused.

"We'll see each other again soon. The last time we had some genuine up close and personal time, just the two of us …"

Here Murdoc held up his phone to show the video camera a picture. It was of an unconscious Mac handcuffed to that rough metal chair in that damp and filthy basement in Los Angeles. Mac heard his own sharp intake of breath, knew it was why Jack, Matty, and Riley stepped closer, all peering at him with real worry instead of looking at the screen. He kept his eyes fixed on Murdoc as the killer put the phone back into his pocket.

"I said I wanted to ask you some questions then. I wanted many things, all of which I've since acquired. Well, most of them anyway. The next time we talk I want to tell you things. I think perhaps you'll like that even less."

The slippery smile and shark's dark stare made Mac shiver like someone had dripped ice water down his spine. He managed not to sound as rattled as he felt though. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say Murdoc. Unless it's, 'I'm turning myself in'."

"Oh, MacGyver, you're such a card. Pretending you don't want knowledge I have … What's today again? Wednesday? That's a workday for Daddy Dearest, I believe. I suppose that means …"

"Enough! Murdoc, what is it you really hope to get out of this?" Matty interrupted sharply.

Mac glanced at her, lines of his face deepening in suspicion once again. Matty knew something about his father. He knew that. Murdoc claimed to. Jack and Riley had been digging and he knew it was because they cared about him but something told him they hadn't shared everything they'd found. Seemed almost everyone here knew more about his father than he did.

"Yeah, what?" he said softly, eyes trained on the terrifying insane face leering at him out of the screen.

"What I've always wanted, MacGyver. For you to sleep with the light on until I decide to put out your light for good."

Mac was going to reply but the screen went dark.

Matty waited for a minute, then closed the device and handed it to Riley. "Did you get anything?"

Riley shrugged. "Several possibles, but his encrypted server relay was good."

Matty nodded. "Alright. Let's get a forensics team called in here and then let's get these guys home."

"Home sounds pretty good," Jack agreed.

"By home I meant to Phoenix Medical. Elliot Mathers treating you in a hotel room with his travel bag does not constitute adequate medical attention. And there's no way you guys get cleared for duty again until Oversight sees a tox panel and then clean blood work."

"Oversight can kiss my …"

"And me. Until I see it, Jack. Although I'm not above the judicious application of kissing, asses or otherwise."

As she intended, Jack flushed crimson. "Very funny Matilda."

"What about you, Blondie? Inclined to argue?"

Mac shook his head. "All I care about write now is being back in the right area code."

As Matty made some phone calls he sunk down on the corner of the nearest bed, wishing he was home already. Matty patted him, his hand, his arm, several times on her way by as she paced and talked.

He managed a small smile for her the third time. She was even being nice to Jack, something Mac had questioned her ability to do. He was struggling to trust her since he'd seen her on the 8mm film, despite anything Jack might have said to reassure him. But one thing was clear, she didn't want him hurt, not unnecessarily anyway. He supposed that was something. Whatever lies she was telling, he was pretty sure they weren't the malicious sort. Jack seemed to read this in his face even though they were being pretty quiet, and gave him a reassuring nod a couple of times.

By the time they cleared out, Mac had a while to think. Getting into the car in the way to the airport he'd given Jack a look and tilted his chin at the front seat, then glanced at Riley. Jack had returned the gesture with a half smile and climbed in the front to drive, starting a loud humorous argument with Matty about which of them ought to be behind the wheel. Matty seemed to catch on and turned on the radio after a minute or two to lend Mac and Riley some semblance of privacy.

Riley tilted her head and looked at him with a quizzical expression, but stayed quiet. After a few minutes of riding through the busy, darkening streets, Mac spoke quietly. "Thanks for getting me out of my own head back there."

He wasn't exactly looking at her, but he wasn't not looking at her either. She smiled softly and reached out and took his hand. Surprising her slightly, he let her and returned the gentle pressure she applied. "You'd have gotten there on your own, but I figured you'd suffered enough already. I don't want to rub it in or anything, but you look a little like somebody who pissed off Jack Dalton."

It was exactly the right note to strike, because he grinned a little even though it hurt his split lip. "More like pissed of a grizzly bear," he said as lightly as he could.

"See, just like I said." She shifted a little, like maybe she was worried. "I'm sorry if you felt like I was butting in or being pushy when you were already at your wits end, Mac. I know you're a very private person."

Mac met her eyes. "Sometimes I think maybe I'm too private. I don't want to be the guy who pushes my friends away." He squeezed her hand again even though his own was sore and bruised. "I might not always want to hear it, or even agree with you, but you're one of the smartest most compassionate people I know. If you think you have something to offer … Just …" He finally looked away, uncomfortable but needing to say this. "I want to know what you think."

She blushed a little. She knew Mac liked her, respected her, even, in his own unique way, considered her family, but to know he truly valued her opinion about thing not related to their work meant the world to her. She took a deep breath. "I won't take that lightly. I promise."

"I know." He forced himself to look at her again. "Now I'm going to offer some unsolicited advice. And I hope you take it the way I mean it."

She frowned but nodded for him to go on. "Okay."

He let go of her hand and ran both of his through his hair. Then he looked out the window for a couple of minutes. He sighed. The were coming up on the airport. If he was going to say this, now was the time. If he hung into it, he'd lose his nerve.

"I'm going to tell you exactly what I told Jack after the whole Murdoc thing last fall. I don't want you guys holding yourself responsible for what happens to me," he said plainly.

"I don't … I …"

He made himself look at her again. "You do, though. You told me you do. If you didn't you wouldn't still be thinking about El Noche."

"You still think about it. You talk in your sleep, Mac."

He nodded, jaw tightening just a little. "Yeah. I do. It was … pretty bad. I don't want to freak you out or anything, but it's not the worst thing that's ever happened to me though. Even Murdoc … even that basement … those aren't the worst things. And … Honestly, Ri, taking those sorts of risks is my job. Maybe I won't always be able to face it. Maybe someday it'll be one bad guy too many, one betrayal too far. Maybe someday I'll find the straw that will break this camel's back. But …" He grinned for her then and even though it wasn't quite genuine she smiled back. "I haven't found it yet."

"I'm glad," she said, really meaning it. Then she wondered aloud, "What would someone like you do if you didn't do this? Be a science teacher?"

Mac laughed. "That sounds good, in theory. I'd probably get fired pretty fast after the third or fourth time the fire department got called to the school though." Matty was pulling into the rental return when Mac went on. "I think I'd probably do something like join the Peace Corps. Go build schools and hospitals, dig wells or build vapor condensers. Get to know people who don't have anything to do with this life."

"You've thought about it a lot," she observed.

He shrugged. "Maybe, yeah. I mean, after what happened at Lake Como, I was in the hospital for a while. Then when we came home … Jack really thought about leaving the life. I was in pain for a while." Her eyes widened at the admission, the stark vulnerability. "If things hadn't seemed so dire when that canister got put on the market, I would have told Thornton no. It still hurt. I was still short of breath sometimes. I shouldn't really have been back at work. I honestly didn't know if I'd ever get cleared again. As it was Thornton had to bypass a bunch of protocols to make it happen. But, I did go back, and I'm glad. Even when things go sideways, I know I'm where I want to be. And I know I'm with family. You know?"

He found himself suddenly wrapped in a hug. Startled but not surprised, he hugged back and she mumbled something into his shoulder. "I love you too, Ri," he said fondly.

The car rolled to a stop and Jack put it in park as he forced his face into a neutral expression, just like he hadn't overheard every word Riley and Mac said. He and Matty exchanged a quick glance as they got out of the car and there was something in her face, too. Something he didn't know how to label.

Jack had known Matty a long time. He trusted her with his life, and that was good because she'd saved it more than once, and he'd returned the favor. But, although he didn't want to say anything to Mac, he was worried about the video Mac had found, worried that she knew something about Mac's father but was keeping it from them.

It was probably time to show Mac everything he'd dup up. Especially now that Riley had finished decrypting all of it. Jack made up his mind to show the kid everything he'd found as soon as they had a minute to breathe.

The look she gave Mac when the kid got out of the car, wincing with the real soreness that was setting in now that they weren't on the move … He decided he liked the look, that it meant she cared about the kid exactly the way she said she did. That he was, they all were, family.

"Alright," Matty said, all businesslike. "Riley, I'm putting you in charge of getting these two home, and making sure they actually report to Medical and stay there until somebody qualified says the can leave."

Riley sighed. "Sure, no problem, Matty. Want me to see what I can do about Russian election interference, Afghani rebels, and the latest Ebola outbreak while I'm at it?"

"If you have time," Matty answered with a smirk. "I'm going to oversee the incoming team processing this scene and update Oversight on the situation." She glared at Mac and Jack both, but neither thought she looked very serious about it."You two behave. And make sure I know where to find both of you when I get back."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said lightly. "On my couch would be a good place to look for me if you …"

"We'll be where you expect us to be, Matty," Mac interrupted. "And if they cut us loose, we'll stay together. At my place. Because Boze will be there, too. Okay?"

Matty frowned for just a split second. "What're you up to, now, Blondie?"

Mac shrugged stiffly. "Trying to get a decent meal and a decent night's sleep where even if I don't wake up a place I want to be, I'll at least wake up where I expect?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Fair enough. I guess your job is just to hold them to that then, Riley. Leave the peace talks to State."

She laughed. "That seems more doable."

"Jack?" Matty said to his back as he sauntered toward the entrance to where she'd already told him he could meet the Phoenix flight crew.

"I heardja," he said with a casual wave over his shoulder.

"Dalton," she said firmly.

God, he loved hassling that woman. "Yeah, yeah." He went inside.

"Blondie?"

Mac threw up his hands, as if to say what do you want me to do with him? But then he grinned and said, "I'll do my best, boss."

He followed Jack inside.

Matty returned her attention to Riley. "Do me a favor and keep an eye on them."

Riley nodded, thinking Matty didn't need to bother making that an order. She was planning on sticking to the guys like glue, no matter what nonsense they got up to, until she was sure they were 100% at least. "You got it, boss."

Matty watched Riley go inside and stood there for a few minutes until she got a text confirming they were aboard the jet from both the medic and additional security she'd brought along but had known enough to not throw at the guys until they were ready to walk away from this. She sent a text of her own to the boss, then went about returning to the scene.

0-0-0

"How many times are you going to make me apologize, Jack?" Mac said with mostly affectionate exasperation as he unlocked his house to let them in.

"At least fifty more, plus you owe me … I dunno … a kidney or something."

Mac closed the door behind them, locking up after for good measure. "I'm sorry fifty times and if you ever need a kidney … I'll definitely find you one on the black market. Okay?" he laughed, heading straight to the fridge, grabbing his favorite form of half assed apology, and coming over to where Jack had already parked himself. "And I'm buying the beer for the next month."

"Well, that almost makes up for it."

"I certainly hope so, since all I did was not blow up the infirmary when they said we should stay until the tox panel came back. Which, by the way, you totally should have been expecting."

Jack cracked his beer open using the edge of Mac's coffee table earning himself a raised eyebrow as Mac flopped with an uncharacteristic lack of grace into the chair across from him. "Well, yeah, okay, maybe I did, but I didn't expect you to just be all agreeable about it or for you to just pass out in one of their sorry excuses for a bed and stay that way until they came around with breakfast trays this morning."

"At least I pulled my weight ditching Boze and Ri back at the office so we can get a minute's peace."

Mac opened his own beer with his pocket knife, tossed the knife on the coffee table since he planned on needed it again for more beer very shortly, kicked off his boots under the table, and put his feet up on the table, sinking back into his chair. "Maybe I was still a little full of, what did you call it when you saw the labs … 'that bunch of gobbledygook' from Murdoc."

Jack was genuinely frowning at him now, not just making his teasing put-on disgruntled face. Mac knew full well if they hadn't expected Jack to stay too he'd have been all for Mac having an eye kept on him in the infirmary overnight after what they'd been through.

Mac took another drink of beer before calling him on the expression. "What?"

Jack sighed and sat forward putting down his beer. "I think maybe yo racked out like that because you're about running on fumes, kid."

"Well, yeah. It was kind of a rough week. I have to assume anyway," he said with a laugh to lighten up the moment.

"Not that," Jack said, not letting him off the hook, now that he had an opening. "Fumes was probably generous. I've been worried you're running on empty probably since the Chrysalis mess, Mac." Mac rolled his eyes, but Jack continued. "You've been working non-stop. You took what? Ten days was it? When Murdoc tagged you in that shoulder?"

"It was a flesh wound! And it's not like those supplies were gonna deliver themselves to that Arctic research lab. You just didn't wanna go because you were afraid of another case of frost butt."

 _That ought to shut him up,_ Mac thought. Bring up something even slightly embarrassing, especially work related, and Jack was usually a next level ninja master at changing to subject.

"Yeah, well, maybe a little. But it was also just another case of you pushing too far too fast. Like all this stuff lookin' for your Dad on top of work. First Paris, then the cabin, then …"

"You broke into Matty's house!"

"Because I want this to be over for you! Before you wear yourself out and make a really stupid mistake or before it overwhelms you and you call it quits on the whole thing and just go join the peace corps or somethin'"

This time Mac smirked. "I knew you were listening."

"Of course I was listening. You guys are important to me. The most important. I missed out on kids of my own, and if I have ya settle for being a helicopter parent, I'm damned well gonna do a good job!"

Mac sighed, but met Jack's eyes, all amusement and teasing gone. "You do. On both counts. Really." Then he let his face slip into a grin again. "I mean you'd hope so anyway. You've had literally decades to practice this whole old man bit."

"Little shit," Jack chuckled fondly, finally leaning back, acknowledging that they could both stand to relax a little. "Besides, it's not the years, kid. It's the miles."

Mac sighed, an altogether more tired sound than he'd intended. "We've been racking up the miles pretty hard these last few years I guess. Both of us."

"Mmm. Listen, Mac, I've had Ri working on some stuff I found and I think it's probably time you had a look."

Mac's eyes showed his gratitude. "I appreciate that. But maybe …"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe not tonight. Maybe let's just let Ri and Boze bring us some take out and wait on us a little and we just kickback and … I don't know …"

"Watch all the Indiana Jones movies?" Jack offered.

"Leave out Crystal Skull and you've got yourself a deal."

"You got a problem with young Mr. Shia LaBeouf?"

"No. I mean the dead psychic mind control aliens are pushing it but …"

"But?" Jack prompted.

"I hate it when a franchise jumps the shark."

"Huh?"

"It's a well known reference about when the classic series Happy Days had the Fonze water ski over a shark. It means 'goes too far, past the point of believability."

"Okay, But is psychic alien ghosts didn't do it, what did poor Indy do that jumped the shark?"

"They nuked the fridge. And Indy lived! Ridiculous. Even a high school freshman who skips class should know the physics, just the force involved mind you, say nothing about radioactive decay …"

"You're gonna explain the physics now arentcha?"

"Unless you don't want to know."

"Go ahead, kid."

Even though Jack had no real idea what the hell the kid was talking about he let him go on until he tired of the subject and Ri and Boze showed up with food and lectures about leaving half the team stranded at the office thinking they were still at Medical.

Later, after the movies, they were stretched out in deck chairs by the fire and Mac looked more than half asleep and Jack was two thirds past that. Jack sleepily said, "Promise me you're gonna cut yourself more breaks, Mac. If I learned anything else this week, it's that you're too worn out to keep this up. I don't wanna see you snap under the weight of it and go off to Timbuktu or something."

"Timbuktu doesn't exist anymore Jack. Now it's a landlocked country currently called Mali in west Africa."

"Well, don't go takin' off to Africa then. Especially parts of it that don't even exist."

Mac smiled, but let his eyes close. "I'll never take off anywhere without at least telling you, man. I'm never gonna be that burnt out or whatever."

"Good," Jack said agreeably.

After a minute or two Mac added, "Other than being on fire Nigeria was nice."

"Don't start picking peace corps spots on me!" Jack asserted, a little more awake. "If you ever decide to take off anywhere, how 'bout Vegas and how about you take me with you?"

"Vegas is alright, too," his exhausted partner agreed.

"Well, okay then."

They both drifted for awhile. Finally Jack mumbled, "We should at least go inside and sleep on the couches."

"Mmmm. I'm good right here. I feel like being out here, away from stuff. Sometimes …" he trailed off. Then he picked up the thread. "Sometimes I feel like the only time I can breathe is when I'm away from everything."

Even though he didn't, Jack knew Mac needed to hear it. "I understand, Mac."

They both fell asleep out on Mac's deck, both dreaming of the places they felt free.


End file.
